


jealousy and isolation make for poor bedfellows

by jakia



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Drinking, Jealousy, Loneliness, M/M, TW: Rape discussion, f/j is in the background and very minor, one-sided implications of widojest, tw: hurt/comfort, tw: past sexual trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:15:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26030068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jakia/pseuds/jakia
Summary: After Traveler-con, Caleb struggles with feelings of isolation and jealousy. He seeks out Essek’s company, hoping for a distraction. Luckily for him, Essek seems in need of a distraction as well.[shadowgast, one-shot. Heed the tags]
Relationships: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast, Fjord/Jester Lavorre, Implied Beau/Yasha - Relationship
Comments: 18
Kudos: 273





	jealousy and isolation make for poor bedfellows

**Author's Note:**

> The rape/non-con warning is for an event that took place in the past. It is not explicit. Still, I've marked the scene like so  
> ***  
> so you can skip over it if you would like.

_ In your downtime, what would you like to do? Caduceus, you've gone home for a little bit to see your family, as have you Veth. Fjord and Jester are trying to, uh, “commune with the Wildmother,” and Beau and Yasha are sparring in the garden. Caleb, what would you like to do? _

_ “I would like to grab a bottle of wine, and go knock on Essek's door.” _

* * *

He knows why he’s here, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. The Xhorhaus is lonely to him right now. Since the disastrous events of Traveler-con, they’ve decided they need some downtime, a few weeks where their lives aren’t threatened on a daily basis. Veth is with her family in Nicodranas, and while he appreciates the invitation she’s extended to him to join her, he feels wrong intruding on her family time, given how rarely she gets to see Luc and Yeza. Even Caduceus invited him (as well as the others) to join his family in the Grove, although a part of Caleb wonders if he extended that invitation just so he didn’t have to face his family alone.

So only five of them returned to Xhorhas, at least for a couple of weeks, and at the time he hadn’t thought anything of it. He’d have his books and a few friends, and he’d enjoy the down time given to him to relax for a bit.

He hadn’t anticipated how isolating it would feel, being with just the five of them.

It wasn’t immediately lonely, of course. Oh, sure, he hung out with all of them a bit. He and Fjord went shopping in the market for supplies; he and Beau spent time in the library. Jester pestered him about using a spell for a prank, and he and Yasha had a few soulful conversations here and there. 

But right now?

Right now, Fjord and Jester were kissing in the den, and Yasha and Beau were sparring in the gardens, and Caleb had not felt so alone in many years. He spends time trying to read, hoping to distract himself from the crushing sense of isolation, but it doesn’t work. Not even Frumpkin could distract him nor keep him company, at least in any way that mattered. The fey cat couldn’t talk back, after all.

With a grand sense of impulsivity, he stands up, the decision not to wallow in his sadness made finalized. There was no sense in being lonely in this city, after all, not when he had a friend who lived ten minutes away, and one who he had been meaning to talk to, anyway. He had enough sense at least to leave a note --  _ gone, will be back later, C.W. --  _ stole a bottle of wine (a Lionett vintage, one of the last few bottles Beau had stolen from her family), and walked his way confidently to Essek’s doorstep.

It didn’t even occur to him until he got to Essek’s home that the drow might not be there, or that he might be busy, or that, quite frankly, he might not want to see Caleb right now. They had seen Essek once or twice since their return to Rosohna, but they hadn’t been long meetings; Beau still didn’t trust him, but he thinks Jester might’ve had lunch with him earlier in the week. Caleb had intended to speak more to him then, but he had been distracted when he saw him earlier--worried about something or another, needing to replace spell components--and so the opportunity to spend time with Essek had slipped through his fingers like grains of sand in an hourglass.

_ What’s your angle here, Widogast?  _ He thinks to himself, his knuckles brushing against Essek’s front door. The iron gate out front had been unlocked and unguarded, and so Caleb lets himself walk up to the front door without pause.  _ What are you hoping to accomplish? _

Was it enough to want to just not be alone for the evening? He wonders to himself, lowering his arm sheepishly, doubt filling his lungs. Is it so wrong to want to see a friend, even if things with that friend were still... _ complicated _ ?

It takes longer than he would have thought for the door to open, and behind the door is the man he came here to see, floating a few inches off of the ground. Essek is dressed somewhat formally, although his familiar mantle is absent. His tunic is fine and long, a deep black with purple and silver embellishments. He blinks slowly at Caleb’s presence, as if he’s not sure he trusts his eyes in front of him. A part of Caleb thinks his eyes look a little wet, but then he chalks it up to a trick of the light.

“Ah, hallo,” Caleb says, sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head with one hand. In his other, he holds the bottle of wine tightly. “Might I come in?”

“Why?” Essek asks. A fair question, although not the one Caleb had been anticipating.

He blinks at him slowly. “Ah, if I am being honest, I could use a distraction, and I was hoping you were free. If you are not, I can leave--”

“Now’s not the best time,” Essek states bluntly, one hand on the door. For a moment, Caleb thinks he’s going to shut the door in his face when it seems like Essek changes his mind suddenly, a light appearing in his eyes. “Actually, you can be of use here. Come in.” He grabs Caleb by his coat and drags him inside, shutting the door behind him. “Don’t talk; follow me.”

Caleb does as he’s told, following Essek through his home, intrigued by whatever it is Essek has planned. Immediately, his sense of doubt and isolation seems to melt away, his mind busy puzzling through the presence of his drow friend and the mystery surrounding him. 

It does not take them long to arrive in what looks like a formal dining room--there are at least eight seats around a square glass table. Spread across the table is a formal dinner--rice, some meat that seems to have been roasted in a sticky sauce, vegetables Caleb doesn’t immediately recognize--and several half-empty wine glasses. Otherwise, the table seems to be abandoned, save for a solitary drow figure that Caleb almost missed, quiet and still.

At first, Caleb worries that he might’ve interrupted something a bit more provocative than he originally thought--a date, perhaps?--but then the other drow turns, and Caleb realizes this man must be a relative of Essek’s; they have the exact same face, down to the same shape of their eyebrows and the same silvery color of their eyes. The other’s drow’s hair is longer, although the sides of his head are still shaved like Essek’s hair, the rest of his white mane goes well past his shoulders in a long braid. The other man is considerably more built than Essek--broad shoulders compared to Essek’s more lithe ones--but they are certainly related in some fashion. Caleb would bet money on it.

“Verin,” Essek addresses the other drow. “I have a visitor. Perhaps you should leave, and we can continue this argument another time.”

Caleb’s gut instinct is to protest-- _ he _ can return another time--but he remembers what Essek said at the door (“don’t talk”) and so he doesn’t say anything. He is fascinated, though, by this man in front of him, and the thought that this man and Essek were arguing prior to Caleb’s arrival. He wonders what they were arguing about; if that’s why at first glance, Caleb thought Essek’s eyes looked wet. 

The other drow--Verin--is nearly impossible for Caleb to read. His face is a mystery, and for a moment Caleb thinks he sees the man tense slightly, and he wonders if he’s going to protest, or yell, or perhaps cry, even. But he doesn’t do any of those things; instead, he stands, revealing himself to be perhaps the tallest, broadest-shouldered drow Caleb has ever encountered. He’s easily a foot taller than Essek, standing nearly as tall as Caleb himself, although not quite. If it weren’t for the fact that they have the exact same face, Caleb wouldn’t think he was related to Essek at all.

“Very well,” the drow says quietly, his voice deep and significantly rougher than Essek’s voice, although the accent is the same. “Light be with you, Essek.”

“You as well, Verin.”

The other drow leaves then, not speaking any further, and it is just Caleb and Essek now, in the relative silence of Essek’s home. As soon as Essek’s front door clicks shut, implying that Verin has left, Essek collapses into one of the nearest chairs. Caleb hides a smile as Essek lays his head flat on the table.

“Your timing is impeccable,” Essek muses, rubbing his face with his hand. The relief on his face is easy to read, even if Caleb isn’t quite sure  _ why  _ he’s so relieved. “Please, have a seat. Are you hungry?”

He is a little peckish, actually, but more than that he is intrigued. What a mystery lies before him, a puzzle waiting to be pried open. He takes the seat diagonal across from Essek. “What was  _ that _ about?”

“Oh,” Essek brushes off his concern. “My younger brother. What you see before you is what remains of a rather disastrous family dinner.” He takes one of the wine glasses still on the table and downs it in a single gulp. “Be glad my mother and sister left even earlier; I would introduce you but I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemies, much less a friend,” he pauses for a moment, and then summons an  _ unseen servant  _ who begins carrying dishes to the kitchen, no doubt to clean them. “Sincerely, are you hungry? I would hate for this food to go to waste.”

Caleb cannot help but chuckle lightly. “I suppose I could eat. I, uh,” he sets the wine bottle he took from Beau on the table. “I brought wine?”

“Perfect. Let me get some clean dishes--I’ll be right back.”

Essek isn’t gone for long, and the unseen servant has cleaned away most of the dirty plates and glasses. Essek brings two more clean plates, and two teacups, which he sets down in front of himself and Caleb, with a little sheepish smile on his face. “I’m out of wine glasses; I’m sorry.”

Caleb laughs. “It’s fine. I’m the one who showed up unannounced,” he shakes his head, amused, as Essek begins to open the bottle of wine Caleb brought. “I--I did not intend to interrupt anything.”

“You didn’t,” Essek says quietly. “Believe me, tonight was a disaster long before you arrived. Though I am intrigued by your presence--you said you needed a distraction?” he hands over a teacup full of wine to Caleb before pouring one for himself. “I think I could use one, too.”

“You don’t want to talk about it?” Caleb offers, feeling a little guilty at how his unexpected arrival has changed Essek’s evening, picking up his teacup delicately. 

“No,” Essek says firmly, a solid, inarguable answer. He starts putting some of the roasted meat on a plate. “Do  _ you  _ want to talk about it?”

He thinks about Jester and Fjord, kissing. “Not really.”

“Then let’s not talk about it,” he starts scooping up rice to put on the plate. “Have you had roasted  _ quidlish  _ before?”

“I’ve not, but it smells delicious. Oh, is that plate for me?”

“Yeah,” Essek hands it over before picking up the other plate, filling it for himself. There’s a little bit of everything on the plate he hands Caleb--a bit of the meat, sauce, rice and vegetables--both the purplish string beans and what he thinks might be simply different colored carrots. Caleb watches with amusement as Essek fills his own plate now, and notes how he avoids the purple string beans carefully, and puts extra sauce on his  _ quidlish _ . “Don’t worry--I didn’t cook any of this. This is take out from my favorite restaurant and put on fancy plates for my family’s benefit.”

“Hmm,” Caleb notes the utensils before him, the two long skinny sticks that they use to eat with in Xhorhas as opposed to the fork and knife they use in the Empire. He picks up one stick in each hand, watching as Essek effortlessly uses both sticks with one hand to start eating. “I have a confession to make.”

Essek looks at him, a piece of  _ quidlish  _ hanging out of his mouth, then eyes the way he holds his chopsticks, one in each hand, and swallows his bite before he grins. “You don’t know how to use chopsticks.”

“Not a clue. In my defense, I’ve never needed to learn how before now,” Caleb says sheepishly. “We have silverware at the Xhorhaus, and we’ve not really gone out much here to have needed to learn how to use them.”

“Poor imperialist barbarians, with your silver shovels that you use to eat with, instead of the refined and elegant chopstick,” Essek teases, then moves to guide Caleb’s hands, putting both chopsticks in one hand. “Finger in between them. There you go.”

“You eat like this?”

“ _ Easily,” _ Essek laughs, picking up another piece of  _ quidlish  _ and popping it in his mouth.

Caleb tries--and fails--to pick up a piece of  _ quidlish _ for himself, before he takes the chopstick and stabs the piece of meat directly in the center, picking it up with one chopstick and taking a bite out of it. 

_ Quidlish  _ tastes a little bit like chicken, a little bit like duck, a little bit like octopus. The texture is somewhat slimy, but there’s a good taste to it. The sauce on it is sweet and tastes a little bit like plums. Oh, but Essek is shaking his head at him.

“ _ Never _ do that in public. That’s incredibly offensive.”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he holds both chopsticks together again, feeling flush to his face. “I didn’t realize.”

“Oh, it doesn’t bother me. I know you didn’t mean anything by it,” Essek brushes him off. “But I also don’t want you to be, ah,  _ ignorant  _ of social and cultural expectations if you ever do go out here, so just so you know: stabbing your food with a chopstick? Big cultural no-no.”

“Good to know,” he shakes his head, and watches with amazement as Essek manages to grab a giant bite of rice on his chopsticks. “ _ How? _ ”

“Watch,” Essek leans over, putting his hand over Caleb’s. His fingers run along Caleb’s own, and it feels--intimate, in a way, the way Essek’s hand trails over his own. Essek presses his fingers down, and picks up a piece of  _ quidlish _ , and brings it up to Caleb’s mouth. “See? Not so hard.”

He hoped the flush on his face could be explained away as embarrassment. He takes another bite of the  _ quidlish _ , and smiles at Essek. “It’s good.”

“Better with rice. My mother would say to make sure you eat the  _ str’vesh _ too, but she’s not here.”

“The purple bean things?”

“I hate them, but you might like them,” Essek puts a few on Caleb’s plate. The purple string beans are easier to hold on the chopsticks, so Caleb ends up eating a few. They taste...okay. Caduceus would probably like them, but he can see why Essek doesn’t like them. They are an interesting texture, but they are easy to pick up with the chopsticks, and with the plum sauce from the  _ quidlish _ on them, they aren’t so bad. 

Essek doesn’t remove his hands from Caleb’s; instead, he helps guide Caleb’s hands with the chopsticks, teaching him through mirrored motion how to use them. It feels strangely intimate; Essek guides his fingers with the same gentle care he takes when he’s teaching him a spell. Caleb feels a sudden pang of longing in his heart for those simpler days--when Essek was willing to teach him the basics of dunamancy, and things between them were--well. They were different, then.

As soon as it seems like Caleb has grasped the basics of using chopsticks, Essek lets go of Caleb’s hand, and Caleb finds he misses the touch, even if he is unwilling to analyze  _ why  _ Essek’s touch causes longing to stir within him.

“So,” Essek asks, turning his attention back to his own plate. “Traveler-con? How was that little adventure for you guys?”

Caleb’s eyes light up with the invitation. From there, it’s a whirlwind discussion about everything he experienced there--Vokodo, the loss of memories, the strange city they had a vision of once the squidlike creature was defeated.

It’s easy to lose track of time after the conversation starts--Essek has theories about the city in the astral plane, and his theories are fun for Caleb to bounce off of. Essek’s theories are all grounded in arcane research--he cites books Caleb hasn’t had a chance to read before offering to loan the books to Caleb. It’s so incredibly different from how he normally debates with the Mighty Nein--not better, not worse, just  _ different _ . No one tonight has suggested that the all-consuming city in the sky might be a butthole, after all, although he does miss the levity just a bit. Before he even realizes it, they’ve been talking for hours and have downed half a bottle of wine between the two of them, and have eaten most of the  _ quidlish  _ absently, theorizing as they have about the arcane mysteries of the world. 

He doesn’t feel lonely with Essek in front of him, marveling about the arcane as they have been. Essek’s perspectives are different enough from Caleb’s own that he’s able to offer new ideas, things Caleb hasn’t even considered yet. It’s good to have a friend he can speculate like this with; he’s found he’s missed it, in his own absence away from Essek’s presence.

“I think I am done with wine for the evening,” Essek says during a break in their theorizing, summoning his  _ unseen servant  _ again, who starts picking up dishes and putting things away for them. Essek himself stands up and starts brushing his tunic off, less any crumbles still stick to him. “I drank quite a bit when my mother was here, and now, well. I should probably stop. At least if I want to be able to walk upstairs in a straight line.”

“At least you only have to go upstairs,” Caleb teases, swirling the last little bit of wine in his teacup before downing the last of it. “I have a ten minute walk ahead of me through the Firaments.” He is not drunk, but the wine is  _ good _ , and he has a pleasant buzz to him. The Lionetts might have been terrible parents, but at least they made good wine.

“Oh, that just won’t do,” Essek teases, a gentle smile on his face. He offers a hand to Caleb, who takes it and helps himself stand. “You don’t have to leave, you know. I do have a guest room that you’d be more than welcome to use.”

The gesture is sweet, if a bit unexpected. “Thank you,” Caleb says sincerely, although he is unsure if he should stay the night or not. He had intended on an evening of distraction; staying the night potentially extends that. He thinks again though about the Xhorhaus, and how quiet it is right now, devoid of some of its usual chaos, and wonders if maybe he  _ should  _ stay.

He follows Essek as he walks from the dining room to what appears to be a den of some sort--there are bookshelves, and a fireplace, as well as a few pieces of furniture--a couch, an armchair, a duvet that makes Caleb think Essek has probably fallen asleep here a time or two. With a flick of his wrist, the room illuminates in a soft blue glow. Essek walks to the fireplace, and then looks to Caleb pointedly.

Caeb rolls his eyes, pleased slightly, and then with a cantrip, the fireplace roars to life. Essek heads over to the bookshelf, and starts pulling a few choice books off his shelf--likely the books he told Caleb he could borrow over dinner, Caleb thinks. “I must confess, I’m a little surprised you came to see me, when you wanted to be distracted.”

Caleb does not say _ you were the only one I could think of who would have me _ , even if a part of him thinks it may be true. The number of people outside of the Nein who care about Caleb is limited to this room, he knows. Then again, the people  _ Caleb  _ cares about outside of the Nein is also limited to this room, in a way. 

“I’ve not seen you since the peace talks,” Caleb says instead, taking a seat on the couch in front of the fireplace, enjoying the warmth that radiates from it. “Is it so wrong to have wanted to see you?”

“It’s, ah, been a while,” Essek explains softly, a small stack of books in his arms that he cradles like a security blanket. “I wasn’t sure if we were still friends.”

“I want us to be,” Caleb says softly, surprised by his own honesty. “I never thought we  _ weren’t  _ friends, Essek. I--”

“Even though I worked for the Cerberus Assembly?”

Even though, Caleb thinks. Perhaps more so now than before, because now at least they can both be honest with each other, instead of the delicate dance of lies they tangoed with previously. “It would be hypocritical of me to be mad at you for that,” Caleb shakes his head. “Given my own history.”

“Hmm.”

It is quiet for a moment: Essek stays near his bookshelf, and Caleb by the fireplace, and the only sounds are the cracks of the wood in the fire, burning. 

“Are you still working for them?” Caleb asks, wincing at himself a bit for the inelegance of his question. They have had such an enjoyable evening so far, too. “Have they contacted you? Did they--did they at least give you the research they promised?”

“A bit,” Essek confesses, crossing the room to sit down on the couch next to Caleb, setting the books down on the table in front of him. “Less than I would have liked, given the--the risks I took, in providing everything for them.” He looks at Caleb plainly, then, staring straight into his eyes. A question for a question, a quid pro quo. “Do they still hate me? The--the rest of the Nein?”

“They--it’s complicated,” Caleb shakes his head, unwilling to lie to him. “Beau and Veth want to blame you for the whole war, as though everything is solely your fault. Jester forgives everything and blames you for none of it. The rest of us--are somewhere in the middle.”

“And you?” Essek asks, and Caleb tries not to read too much into the tone of his voice, how it cracks slightly as he asks his question. “What does Caleb Widogast think of all this?”

A good question, and one Caleb wishes he had a more solid answer for. “I think you made a mistake, in trusting the Cerberus Assembly. And I think you were reckless in your ambitions, and it got a lot of people killed,” he knows how his comments must sting, and so he looks up and stares Essek in the eyes. “I also know that it would be hypocritical of me to blame you for it, given my own past and how many I’ve killed with my own mistakes. How can I blame you for trusting the Cerberus Assembly, when I’ve made that same choice before in the past?” Before Essek can ask any questions, Caleb leans forward, and grabs Essek’s hands, squeezing them with his own. “I know I wish redemption for you, Essek. The same grace that has been extended to me, I wish the same for you.”

He doesn’t anticipate Essek bursting into tears, but perhaps he should have known better. In some ways, Caleb thinks he has been on the verge of crying all night long, after whatever happened with his family that he doesn’t want to talk about. “I’ve had only two fears since--since you learned the truth,” Essek explains, tears running down his face. He’s a beautiful crier--his face doesn’t turn red or blotchy, but rather he just lets the tears stream down his face. “The first is that my actions would result in your deaths, either intentionally or by accident. And the second is that you all would hate me, and never want to see me again.” 

“ _ Essek _ ,” Caleb breathes, leaning closer to him. “None of us hate you. I don’t think Beau and Veth hate you, really. I think they are just hurt, and are lashing out because of it.”

He takes a moment to wipe his eyes on the bell sleeve of his tunic. “I don’t want to be lonely again. I didn’t realize how much your friendship meant to me, because I’ve never really had anything to compare to it. These past weeks while you’ve been gone to Traveler-con, I’ve--I’ve felt awful,” He looks back up at Caleb again, his eyes a bit clearer now. “I’m so grateful you came over when you did.”

“I hadn’t realized,” Caleb confesses. “I wish I had come sooner, if I had known--”

“You came at exactly the right time,” Essek shakes his head. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“I’m sorry that you were lonely,” he says quietly, as Essek pulls out a handkerchief to blow his nose with. “If I am being honest--part of why I came here tonight was out of loneliness, too.”

Essek looks at him, confused. “But you have the Nein.”

“Most days, yeah,” Caleb shakes his head. “But we are taking a little bit of a break. And everyone was busy with other people, their families and--and partners, and I realized I had no one, so I--I grabbed a bottle of wine and headed here. Hoping you’d be willing to distract me for a little bit.”

“Any time, Caleb,” Essek smiles, a bit of his fangs poking out of his mouth. “Really. I’m not sure what you expected from a distraction, but, I--I hope I helped.”

“You did,” Caleb confesses, a bright smile on his face. “I was game for pretty much anything, really,” Caleb grins, glad that Essek isn’t crying any more, at least. “I didn’t know what to expect. Dinner, conversation? A good choice. Magical research? All of those would be good,” He shakes his head slowly. “I just didn’t want to be alone.”

“You don’t have to be. Not with me, I--” Essek hesitates, his head lowered slightly. “I am always alone,” he whispers, his voice barely audible for Caleb to hear. “Even when I am surrounded by people, I feel--I feel alone. I always have, it has always been a part of me, so much so that I didn’t realize how--” his face flushes, and he looks up at Caleb, his eyes curious. “Until I met  _ you _ , I did not realize how lonely I was, until I was offered genuine companionship.”

‘You’ means the whole of the Mighty Nein, Caleb tells himself, feeling warm underneath his collar. The wine must be stronger than he thought, and he feels almost lightheaded. 

Gingerly, he takes Essek’s hand into his own, and squeezes gently. “I cannot speak for the rest of the Nein, but for myself. You do not have to be lonely, not while I am here. I,” he bites at his lips slightly. “I know I am not here all the time, but when I am? I will be here for you, Essek. I promise.”

He doesn’t expect Essek to lean forward and kiss him; in hindsight, it seems the appropriate response, the cusp of what their evening has been building towards. Essek’s lips are soft, and he tastes like wine and the plum sauce they had with dinner. It causes a flame to spark in Caleb’s belly--something he’s not felt in a long time, a feeling he had almost forgotten about. It has been so long, but he kisses like a duck taking to water, the ease of which Caleb’s body remembers how to  _ want.  _ It is easy for Caleb to get lost here--the softness of Essek’s mouth, the warmth of his body next to his--but Essek does still pull away eventually, the need to breathe getting the best of him.

He looks down at their intertwined hands, and doesn’t look Caleb in the eyes. “I--I apologize--”

“Why are you apologizing?” Caleb asks, amused. “I kissed you back.”

“I did not ask if you wanted to be kissed,” Essek finally looks up, sheepishly. “I have always cared a great deal about consent, especially since--well, it’s something I care a great deal about. In everything I do, I try and make sure the other person is comfortable, that they feel safe, I--it’s part of why I always tutored you at your home, and not my own. So that you would feel secure, and I--” he scratches the back of his head. “Well, I apologize for kissing you without asking permission.”

“Well,” Caleb grins, a bit cheesy. Perhaps he will regret this later, when there is less wine in his system, but right now he cannot keep the grin off of his face, his loneliness all but forgotten. “Permission granted. Kiss me as much as you like.”

“Truly?” Essek asks, as though he cannot understand what his ears tell him. He stares at Caleb with such intensity that it borders on uncomfortable.

“Yes,” Caleb cannot stop smiling. It has been so long since he’s kissed like that. He’s forgotten how much he enjoys it, and in spite of his vast intelligence he cannot think of a reason  _ not  _ to spend his evening kissing Essek senseless. “Why not? You are handsome certainly, but I did not know if you would be interested in--well, someone like me.”

“I thought my interest in you was obvious,” Essek states plainly, still staring uncomfortably at Caleb. “Certain, Jester has teased me often enough about it that I thought surely you knew. You have always been the one I’ve been uncertain about,” he bites his lip thoughtfully. “In truth, I did not know if you even were attracted to men, to be honest.”

“I like men and women,” Caleb confesses, scratching at the back of his head. “Although I will confess, most of my experience and attraction has defaulted to women in the past, but there have been--I have been interested in men before.”

Men like  _ you _ , he doesn’t say, although he thinks that perhaps Essek hears it anyway.

Essek stops his staring, looking down at their hands. Caleb hadn’t even realized they were still holding hands, throughout their conversation--it felt so natural, holding Essek’s hand with his.

“Stay the night with me?” Essek offers, hesitation in his voice. “We do not--we do not have to do anything other than share a bed, if you don’t want to, but I--,” he bites at his bottom lip. “I do not wish to be alone, tonight.”

“Neither do I,” Caleb confesses, and surprises himself with the truth.

“Then let us go upstairs,” Essek whispers, before kissing Caleb once more, softer this time. “And allow me the pleasure of distracting you for the evening.”

* * *

It is a race to Essek’s bedroom after that, tongue and hands chasing after one another. They are a tangled mess of limbs, trying to climb the stairs while kissing, unwilling to let go of one another on their stair climb up. They push into Essek’s room, laughing and kissing as they collapse onto Essek’s bed. At first, they lie side by side, trading gentle kisses one after another. There is still a heavy layer of _want_ building inside Caleb, but it has calmed, a spark instead of a roar. The tenderness with which they touch one another keeps him from feeling overwhelmed, even if he does wish for a bit more--more to touch, the feel of skin beneath his hands opposed to just cloth. Caleb cradles Essek’s head in his hands, holding his cheeks as he kisses him. He feels Essek wraps his arms around his waist, pulling him in close and holding him.

When they pull away, the need to breath getting the better of them, Caleb has a large smile on his face. “It has been--a long time since I have done that.”

“A shame,” Essek smiles, leaning forward to pepper kisses on his face. He thinks he may be trying to kiss every freckle on Caleb’s face. “You are very good at it.”

Caleb leans over, so that he is hovering over Essek slightly. “Really? I was just thinking,” he kisses him again. “That I could use a bit more practice.”

“Hmm. I won’t complain, then.”

Caleb straddles Essek, legs on either side of his hips, and starts kissing him again, this time moving from his lips to his chin, and then again to his neck. The soft gasps and noises that Essek makes beneath him are nice, especially the low moan that manages to escape his lips. It’s nice enough that when Caleb kisses him, he keeps kissing upwards, intending to nibble a little bit on Essek’s ears. 

***

He doesn’t notice when Essek stiffens suddenly, and so is surprised when he is suddenly flung off of the bed and thrown towards the wall.

It’s not a powerful throw--he doesn’t go far--but the movement still shocks him as he lands flat on his back on the floor. “Ow,” he mumbles, more out of surprise than actual injury.

“Caleb?” Essek whispers, his voice quiet in the dark. “I’m sorry--are you hurt?”

“More startled than anything,” Caleb confesses, sitting up on the carpeted floor of Essek’s bedroom. “What--what  _ was  _ that?”

There isn’t a response at first, but Caleb can see--thanks to the moonlight more than anything--the way Essek sits up and folds his knees underneath himself, the way he has his arms wrapped around his knees. “Essek?” He repeats. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he says finally, his voice a little shaky. “Sorry, I--I’m sorry.” He moves his legs, swinging over the side of the bed and offering an arm to Caleb to help him stand. “You must think I’m crazy.”

“I think I am worried,” Caleb says, using Essek’s help to stand. Cautiously, he sits on the bed next to Essek, allowing a bit of space between the two of them--more space than there’s been most of the evening, really. “One moment we were kissing, and the next I got flung across the room. And you seem--”  _ troubled  _ is the word Caleb is searching for, but it doesn’t come to him. “--Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” Essek confesses. “But that doesn’t seem fair to you.”

“I don’t--” Caleb bites his lips. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But I’d like to know what I did wrong, so I can avoid it in--in the future.”

_ If  _ there was to be a future between them.

“Hmm,” Essek says quietly, not really looking in Caleb’s direction. “I--do you remember Adeen? The man I framed for the theft of the Beacons?”

That took a turn Caleb wasn’t expecting. “Yes, of course. What about him?” What does he have to do with this, Caleb wonders, but doesn’t ask.

“He was my--ex, I suppose you could say. The first man I ever let in my bed, many, many years ago. He was built a bit like you, I suppose, and when you were on top of me it reminded me of the last time that happened, and I think I panicked a bit, unintentionally. My apologies, Caleb.”

What was it, Caleb wondered, that would make Essek panic like that, having someone lie on top of him like that? What would cause him to have such a violent reaction? Perhaps he had been violent, or perhaps--

_ oh. _

The realization hits like a bolt of lightning.

“He raped you?”

Essek fidgets, still not quite willing to look Caleb in the eye. “I suppose that’s one way to describe it,” Essek looks up, staring at the ceiling of his room. “I consented to--to sleeping with him. But he--he was heavier than I expected. And he wouldn’t  _ stop _ , even though it hurt me, and I bled.” He shakes his head. “I broke up with him, of course, and went out of my way to avoid him afterwards. He still bragged to everyone that he had slept with me. Seeing him in chains was--well,” he finally turns to look at Caleb, offering a small smile, a tiny toothy fang hanging out of his mouth. “I told you no one undeserving suffered due to my actions. I made sure of that.”

“ _ Essek _ ,” Caleb breathes slowly, overwhelmed slightly by the new information he’s learned about his friend. How little he still knows about him, even now. “That’s horrible. I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

“Part of why I was upset earlier,” Essek starts, biting his lips. “When my family was here--my brother and Adeen were friends. He wanted to know about him being the traitor and I--snapped at him. But that wasn’t fair,” Essek shakes his head. “I never told him what happened between Adeen and I. I shouldn’t have expected him to just--immediately take my side.”

“He’s your brother. I don’t think that’s an unreasonable request.”

“We aren’t close,” Essek shrugs. “And I’ve completely ruined the mood now. I apologize.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Caleb reassures him. “You suffered through something traumatic. You are allowed to react to that.”

Essek shrugs. “It was a long time ago. Twenty--twenty years ago, give or take. And I’ve had other lovers, since, so it’s not like I’m traumatized by it or anything. I think having you on top of me just triggered something; you are heavier than most drow, and so was Adeen, and so I reacted in a way I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry,” he leans his head on Caleb’s shoulder. “I didn’t mean to hurt you in the process.”

Caleb wraps his arms instinctively around Essek’s shoulders, pulling him close into a hug. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’ll--I’ll try to avoid laying on top of you in the future, alright? I think anyone would react that way, given what you’ve been through. I,” he kisses Essek on the forehead, instinctively. “I have my own trauma, as well. I understand how it feels to react--instinctively towards something, especially something that reminds you of what happened, either intentionally or not.”

He thinks about fire, and crystals shoved under his arms. He thinks about being frozen in fear, and how Mollymauk had to slap his face and kiss his forehead to get him to  _ move _ again.

Essek leans forward and kisses him again, softer this time than the previous kisses they’ve shared but no less enjoyable. When they pull apart, Essek hangs his head softly, looking down at their intertwined hands instead of Caleb’s face. 

***

“I understand if this changes your mind about staying with me tonight,” Essek offers. One hand holds Caleb’s steady, but the other plays with the fabric of his tunic, tracing his fingers along the silver threaded patterns. “If you would wish to be with someone less complicated, I understand.”

“Essek,” Caleb breathes, leaning forward so that his forehead rests against Essek’s own. “ _ I’m _ fine. I’m okay with your past, and it changes nothing about my desires. But if  _ you _ feel like you do not wish to continue, given what just happened, then I am okay with that. I want you to feel comfortable and safe. I can go home if you’d like--”

“Don’t you dare,” Essek grins, fangs sharply poking out of his mouth. 

“I am offering, for your comfort. My preference is to match your preference, nothing else.”

“You know, some people have hook ups with a lot less emotional baggage.” Essek teases, running his tongue across his fangs. 

“That doesn't seem realistic,” Caleb chirps, causing Essek to laugh.

They are quiet for a moment, just enjoying the presence of one another’s company. The sound of Essek’s breathing is steady, a comfortable sound to Caleb’s ears, a reminder that he’s not as alone as he feels sometimes.

“Perhaps we cuddle for a bit,” Caleb offers, gesturing for Essek to lay down. “And we go from there.”

There’s a lightness to Essek’s eyes when he smiles back. “I like that plan. You first.”

Caleb does as he’s told, laying flat on his back, and when Essek lays down he puts his head on Caleb’s chest, listening to his heart beat. Caleb wraps his arms around him, holding him close. He lets his fingers trace patterns in Essek’s back, his fingers following along the embroidery in his shirt.

Things are quiet, for a bit, just the two of them, holding one another. For a brief moment, Caleb contemplates falling asleep, but he’s not quite tired yet. Not yet.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Essek says finally, his own fingers tracing patterns into Caleb’s shirt. “It doesn’t have to be a secret, or anything important. Just something I don’t know.”

“Something you don’t know, huh?” Caleb whispers, continuing his tracing. “Well, Frumpkin was a real cat, once.”

“Your familiar?”

“Yes. Well, not the fey cat I summon. But I based him on an old barncat I used to have growing up. That Frumpkin was female, actually. I kept calling my familiar Frumpkin she for the first several times I summoned him, until he politely told me he was a he.”

“I’ve never summoned a familiar before,” Essek muses. “Never felt the need to.”

“Have you ever had any pets?” Caleb wonders, now curious. “Or have you always just done without?”

“My mother didn’t like pets. And there aren’t exactly cats in Rosohna, so I couldn’t have had a cat like Frumpkin. I did have a rabbit, once, but, ah, it died when I was still just a child.”

“I’m sorry,” he thinks about his original Frumpkin cat, and how she likely died in the same fire that killed his parents. “Tell me a secret? Something happier.”

Essek lifts his head softly, looking Caleb in the eyes and grinning. “I learned how to float because my younger brother grew taller than me.”

Caleb does not mean to snort with laughter, but the thought of Essek’s magical talent coming about out of  _ pettiness _ just causes him to laugh. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes, still laughing slightly.

“Oh, go ahead and laugh,” Essek grins. “It’s ridiculous, I know.”

“He is very tall,” Caleb agrees, stopping his chuckles. “I noticed that when he stood up.”

“Yes. A fact I still haven’t forgiven him for, in spite of being older,” Essek lays his head back down, and closes his eyes. “Another?”

He thinks for a moment, trying to think of something lighthearted to share. “I don’t have a favorite color,” he says, after a few moments. “Apparently, that makes me strange among the Mighty Nein.”

“It does make you strange,” Essek teases, and it makes Caleb feel warm and comfortable. “I would have thought your favorite color was orange.”

“Really? What makes you say that?”

“Your cat is orange,” Essek yawns. “And so are your spells.”

“I never realized.”

“You are silly,” Essek says, but there is fondness in his voice.

Caleb looks down at the elf, who seems to be dozing on his chest. “Oh yeah? What’s your favorite color, then?”

“I like blue,” Essek whispers, his eyes still closed. “Like your eyes.”

“Cheesy.”

“A little,” Essek admits. They are quiet again, just their breathing, gentle and low, and Caleb thinks that Essek has fallen asleep, and perhaps he should, too.

The last thing he thinks before sleep overtakes him is this: that he came here with the intention of getting distracted, because all he could think about was his own loneliness, something to ease the jealousy that threatened to swallow his heart. Instead, the two of them got to share together their time and company, the intimacy that has come between them.

_ I’m so glad I came _ , he thinks, and then he falls to sleep.

* * *

_ Epilogue _

The four of them stand around the letter, like they think it might bite them, or because they cannot believe the contents of the letter.  _ gone, will be back later, C.W. _

“Where do you think he went?” Jester says, breaking the silence.

“I imagine Essek’s,” Yasha says quietly. “He’s the only person we really know here.”

They are quiet again for just a moment.

“Five gold says they banged,” Beau says, breaking the silence again. Fjord  _ immediately  _ recoils in horror, but he’s the only one who does so.

“Oh, totally!” Jester chirps. “They are always like, so _intense_ and stuff, you know?”

Beau holds her hands together, so that they aren’t touching but they are  _ extremely _ close. “Yeah, and they always talk like this close to each other. Do you need to be this close to have a conversation with someone? They’re gonna end up kissing on like, accident.”

“Good for Caleb, though,” Yasha muses. “He deserves a hot drow boyfriend.”

“Can we not speculate on our friend’s love life?” Fjord essentially begs. “Please?”

“Oh, Fjord,” Jester laughs. “Where’s the fun in _ that?” _


End file.
